Thief of Hearts
by Ghostwriter Redux
Summary: "Brynja, at your service Master Baggins," the exotic creature on his doorstep bowed with dramatic flourish. "Lady, loveable rogue...," she trailed off as she raised her head, green eyes glittering with mischief and lips curved into a smile that was all predator. "-and dragon slayer." Pairing: Thorin/OC, slow-burn.
1. Prologue

Spoiler alert for the Battle of Five Armies/end of The Hobbit though who hasn't actually finished it by now…? Do I really need to put this?

* * *

Disclaimer: Do I also need to put this as well? You should all know by now that I don't own The Hobbit, Professor Tolkien does with PJ owning the rights to the movie-verse. I don't own the cover photo, credit to its creator whoever that may be. I just own my OC and make no money writing this.

* * *

"Papa! Papa will you tell me a story?!" Fíli turned his attention to the world's most adorable little dwarfling (at least in his opinion) running his way. He grinned, kneeling to scoop his son into his arms.

"What story do you want to hear Ári?" He asked, settling the boy on his hip as he cocked his head to the side.

"Um, the one about-."

"No! It's passed his bedtime," Fíli and Ári both cringed, looking sheepishly over their shoulders at Lady Sigrid coming towards them with a scowl on her lips.

"Ah, but _â__zyungul_-."

"Don't you '_âzyungul'_ me Fíli," she replied icily. "He is a growing boy. He needs his rest."

"Surely a few minutes won't mean a difference…," the King Under the Mountain trailed off, withering quite pitifully under the irritated look his queen gave him. "I-I mean I shall put him to bed straight away."

"See that you do," Sigrid replied, brushing a strand of hair back from Ári's face. "You have a big day tomorrow, both of you. Kíli and Tauriel sent word that they will be here for the ceremony, they are just running a bit behind and expect to arrive before dawn."

Fíli's face fell slightly at the mention of the next day and she gave his free hand a reassuring squeeze as well as a kiss on the cheek. "You can speak to me about anything, you know that right?" she murmured softly to him.

"I know," he said quietly, noticing how still Ári had gone in his arms.

"Papa?" Fíli glanced over to his son. "Why are you sad?"

"Because tomorrow is the tenth year anniversary of our people reclaiming Erebor."

"Why are you sad then? It is a day of great happiness."

Fíli blinked back the tears that had gathered in his eyes and smiled sadly at his wee lad. "It is, but it is also a day of great sorrow."

"Because of what happened to Uncle Thorin during the Battle of the Five Armies?" Fíli had to swallow the lump in his throat before he could continue speaking.

"Not just that but also because we lost another warrior that day." Fíli heard Sigrid's sharp intake of breath at those words and he glanced over, seeing tears well in her eyes. She too remembered who he spoke of.

"Who?" Fíli set his son on his feet, extending his hand to the boy and bidding him to take it. The golden-haired king glanced over his shoulder to Sigrid for approval and when she nodded faintly he began leading Ári down the hall and towards the front gates.

"Where are we going papa?"

"I want to show you something, little one. Tell me, what do you know of the Quest for Erebor?"

The lad was practically bouncing in excitement, eager to share his knowledge on the subject. "I know that you and Uncle Kíli and Granduncle Thorin went to retake the Mountain from Smaug the Terrible along with ten other dwarrows and a…a hobbit!"

"That's right. What else?" Fíli turned a corner, nodding to the guards to open the gates and bathing the front foyer of the Great Hall in the last golden rays of sunlight.

"I know that you were captured by trolls and attacked by wargs. You were even captured by elves at one point but Master Boggins-."

"Baggins," Fíli automatically corrected him with a slight smile as they left the mountain and began walking down a side path leading to the vault where his uncle was laid to rest.

"-Master Baggins saved you all by putting you in barrels and you escaped them by riding down the river! Then you found the door and then grandpa killed the dragon with his bow! And then-."

"You are forgetting one very important detail, little one," Fíli said, his smile faltering when they reached the mausoleum.

"I am?"

"Yes indeed. You did not mention one of the most important members of the Company." Fíli pushed the heavy stone door open, grabbing the torch from its holder on the wall that was always kept lit by the wardens and ushered his son inside.

"But I thought there were only fourteen-?"

"Nay, there was fifteen members though it is taboo to speak of her."

"Why?" He fell silent for a moment as he struggled not to cry from viewing the sight of the large marble sarcophagus. Two statues were set upon it, seated side by side, hands forever intertwined. Ári took a seat on a bench, looking up at the stone lady.

She wore a bandolier strapped across her chest holding an empty quiver, a longbow rested at her side and a mithril war hammer lay across her lap. She had a kind expression on her face and wore her hair unbound unlike many of the ladies Ári knew. What caught his eye the most was the glimmering white jewel set into the center of her chest.

"Is that-?"

"The Arkenstone," Fíli finished for him, sitting at his side and drawing him into his lap, resting his head on the boy's shoulder as they looked upon the royal couple.

"Who is she dâd?"

"Lady Brynja. Cunning thief, beloved wife, and dragon slayer."

"Dragon slayer?!" Ári gasped, looking at his father with wide eyes.

"Aye, she was," Fíli grinned. "As fierce and stubborn as they come too. I think that is what drew Uncle to her though he would never admit it."

"If she was his wife then why is she not mentioned in songs or tales like he was?"

"That, my son, is an excellent question. You said you wanted to hear a story, yes?" Fíli said, clearing his throat. "I think it's time you hear about the journey as it should have be told. The tale of Thorin Oakenshield, the King Under the Mountain and Brynja Vandrekkr, his Lionheart…"

* * *

Prologue yay! I'm not really a shipper of Fíli/Sigrid but I wasn't feeling up to creating an entirely new character for Fíli and I've seen a few examples of this pairing so I decided what the hell. Same with Kíli/Tauriel. This is something I just thought up while babysitting my friend's daughter and we were watching 'How to train your dragon' for the bazillionth time and this sort of spawned from that. Don't ask me how, I don't know either. Anyways, yeah. I'm shooting for an update every Sunday with this since that seems to be one of my only days off nowadays but don't quote me on that since I don't work a set schedule (which sucks) but I'll do my damndest.


	2. Chapter One

A/N: A day late, I do apologize. For whatever reason whenever I tried getting on FF my internet went 'screw you' and yeah. Thank you 12reader, never laugh at dragons, ThreeHundredStarsAbove, and insanity and co for reviewing. You guys are aweshum and thanks to those who've put this on their faves/alerts too! Did I mention this was AU? Because it totally is.

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize. I'm not talented enough to think up Middle Earth like Tolkien or bring it to life like Jackson did. I only own my OC (and occasional grammar error) and make no profit from this (which is a right shame).

* * *

_Third Age, Bree, March of Year 2941_

Rain was coming down in sheets as a hooded woman sloshed her way through the mud, desperate to get out of the abysmal storm that had seemingly developed out of nowhere. Her attention was diverted to an inn by the name of The Prancing Pony. It was a quaint little tavern though it had seen better days. A few shutters were loose, clanking heavily against the building from the wind battering it.

The door flew open, startling many of the patrons and she slammed it shut behind her. Clutching her furs tighter around her shoulders she strode towards the bar, every eye in the tavern drawn her way though she paid them little mind.

The innkeeper looked down upon her with a raised brow, "Can I help you?"

"I would like a room for the evening," her voice was surprisingly low for one of such a small stature, smoky and almost hypnotic. His eyes went from the fierce-looking bow on her back to the wickedly curved knives at her hips. Half her face was thrown into shadow beneath the hood of her furs and she looked like trouble on two legs.

He'd been in the business long enough to be able to recognize a mercenary when he saw one and he certainly didn't need that kind of rabble-rouser in his pub. "Sorry, but we have no vacancies."

"Oh really?" she sounded vaguely amused and not the slightest bit convinced. "I can pay good coin for my lodgings and be gone before morning." He reflexively cringed when she reached into her pocket before plunking a pouch on the bar with a soft jingling sound, looking up at him expectantly.

"We have no rooms available," he said again, a bit more forcefully than last time. "Try the hostel over in Archet."

The warrior sighed in annoyance, grabbing the small purse off the counter and shoving it back into her pocket before starting towards the door. All she wanted was someplace relatively soft and warm to lay her head for the night. Perhaps she could find a dry spot in the stables out back to stay.

"Ah, there you are my dear!" She heard footsteps coming up behind her and rested her hand on one of her knives for reassurance. "Come, sit. You look famished." The taller man ushered her from the doorway and sat her down at a table.

A sigh of realization escaped her when she finally looked at the man sitting in front of her. "What do you want Gandalf?"

He looked absolutely affronted at the way she spoke his name so wearily. "Is this how you greet others after all these years? With insolence and disregard?"

"You know me so well." He rolled his eyes, pushing a bowl of hot stew towards her and calling the barmaid over for another pint of ale.

"How have you been Brynja?"

"I've been alright, I suppose. I haven't almost died recently which is good," she muttered, picking up her spoon.

Gandalf chuckled quietly. "Very much so." Several moments passed in silence as she filled her belly. "I've heard a story as of late, from a merchant in East Rhûn."

"Mm, do tell."

"He told me of a brave warrior that slayed a cold drake near the Orocarni that was killing their livestock."

"That's good."

"I thought I told you to stop hunting them Brynja."

"I will," she glanced up at him over the rim of her bowl, green eyes shining eerily bright beneath the cowl of her cloak. "Once they stop hunting me."

"If you would simply stay in hiding like I told you to-."

"Since when do I obey my betters?"

Gandalf scowled at her insolence. "If you do recall it was your kin's disobedience that caused all of your problems to begin with."

"I cannot stand by idly while my 'kin'-," she spat the word like venom, "-destroys homes and families and for what? Glittering metal and sparkly trinkets!?"

The wizard fell quiet as did the rest of the bar at her outburst, all eyes trained on her. Gandalf glanced around, smiling politely and silently bidding them to go about their business. After a moment chatter started up again though quieter than before.

"Perhaps we should take our conversation somewhere a bit more private."

"Where? If you haven't noticed I'm not exactly welcomed here," Brynja muttered scathingly, glancing over at a table of men who immediately looked down into their cups when they realized they were caught staring at her.

"Room sixteen, on the third floor. I will be up shortly to join you." She gave him a sour look though obediently stood and made her way towards the staircase.

* * *

Though a maid hadn't been sent up the candelabra was lit and the coals that had been brought up from the main fireplace earlier that night were burning bright red in the brazier. She stood with her back to the door when he entered, looking out the small window at the storm ravaging the town.

"You still boast some skill at magic it seems," Gandalf said as he took a seat by the small stove and lit his pipe with a tiny spark that elicited from his fingertips.

"Not much, not anymore," Brynja replied, turning away from the window. She had tossed her furs over the chair across from his to dry near the stove, leaving her in a dark green hooded tunic with a cream-colored linen shirt beneath it and thick breeches. She wasn't burdened by heavy mail, instead clad in black leather armor obviously designed for her smaller frame and matching vambraces adorned her forearms, tightened with strips of leather that wound up and down them.

"You have no enemies here Brynja, remove your hood." She hesitated for the briefest of moments before obeying, revealing a shock of bright red hair and almond-shaped green eyes. "That's better. You are certainly a sight for sore eyes my dear."

Her lips twitched as she though she were resisting the urge to smile and she took a seat in the chair across from his. "You said you wanted to talk, so let's talk."

"I have need of your special…set of skills." She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees.

"I'm listening."

"Tell me, do you know of a dwarf named Thorin Oakenshield?"

She shrugged. "I've heard of him, 'King Under the Mountain' except he doesn't have a mountain. Smaug took it from the dwarves nearly two hundred years ago."

"Yes, well, it just so happens that you are the fifteenth member of his Company."

"What is this 'Company' you speak of?"

"He, along with twelve other dwarrows, have made the decision to retake Erebor and The Lonely Mountain. Smaug has not been seen for over sixty years and they think that perhaps the vast fortune lays unguarded."

"I honestly doubt it," she murmured, beginning to unbraid her hair and running her fingers through the snarled strands. "I would assume he's merely dormant. Why would he bother with hunting to replenish his strength when there is no one willing to contest him openly?"

"Except you." A small smile crept onto Brynja's lips at those words. "You were the first one I thought of when I realized they would need someone with…experience…in dealing with the beasts."

"All this talk about you not wanting me to kill dragons and now you are asking me to do so?" she ribbed the wizard playfully. "There is something I don't understand however."

"What's that, my dear?"

"You said that his Company consists of fifteen members yet you have only mentioned thirteen dwarves and myself. Are you the fifteenth?"

"No, I am not."

"Then who-?"

"Patience, Still-Cursed." She scowled when he brought up her lineage, eyes flashing molten gold for the briefest of moments in annoyance. "Don't give me that look Brynja. With your mother's blood flowing through your veins you would be a welcomed addition to their cause."

"What about the treasure, Smaug's hoard? How do you know I won't succumb to the Sickness and turn on the dwarves? I am still one of Them, cursed or not."

"Do you have so little faith in yourself? You are not evil."

"I'm not the most honorable creature either," she muttered, standing from her chair and beginning to pace the length of the room restlessly. "How do you think they will react when they discover their fifteenth member is a dragon? I cannot imagine it will go over well."

"Why, they simply mustn't find out."

A smirk stretched across her lips followed by a wary chuckle. "You make it sound so easy."

"It is, you are the one overcomplicating it." Brynja rolled her eyes at those cheeky words. "Now then, will you accept the task of killing Smaug, Still-Cursed?"

She exhaled sharply through her nose, turning to face the wizard and proclaiming, "I will aid them to the best of my abilities. If they will have me, of course."

"I'm sorry to say they don't really have a choice in the matter," Gandalf replied with a mischievous smile and eliciting a genuine laugh from the sullen redhead for the first time that night.

* * *

As you noticed I changed her name. I was playing with the idea of her not being from ME and then the more I wrote the more I decided it would fit better if she was. Brynja is pronounced 'brin-yah', rolling the 'r' just a touch. Constructive criticism is always welcomed so don't be shy about dropping a review and letting me know what you thought. Lots of dialogue, I know, but things will pick up next time. Arrivederci.


	3. Chapter Two

A/N: Quick update before work. I already had this half-finished yesterday when I posted chapter one and decided what the hell? I'm happy to find people are enjoying this almost as much as I like writing it. Special thanks to Samuel La Flame (guest), 12reader, and X-PoisonCherry-X for reviewing and everyone else for favoriting/following this.

* * *

Disclaimer: No, I don't own The Hobbit. I am not a dead Englishman named JRR Tolkien nor am I a rotund filmmaker named Peter Jackson. I only own my OC and grammar booboos and make no money writing this.

* * *

_Third Age, Outskirts of the Shire, April 2941_

"Is there any particular reason they needed fourteen members Gandalf?"

"Because thirteen is considered an unlucky number to dwarves."

"Didn't take them for being a superstitious lot. How will they react when they realize a woman is joining them then? We are notorious for bringing bad luck after all."

"That saying only goes for those on a ship, not horseback," Gandalf said, smiling at the slighter woman who chuckled in response.

"Fine. Tell me this however, why are we travelling to the Shire?"

"Because our last member is a hobbit."

"Seriously?" The wizard glared at her. "I mean, really, what use can a hobbit be on a quest like this? Unless he is to be our cook?"

"Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet and can pass by most unseen."

"Your point?"

"My point is that resourcefulness and cunning will be favored over strength of arms during this journey."

"Remind me why I'm coming along then," Brynja joked. She was in unusually high spirits for some reason and attributed it to the gorgeous weather and beautiful scenery around her. She had been to the Shire a few times before but only in passing, never really able to take the time to appreciate the view.

They continued on in silence, entering through the gates leading to Hobbiton before Gandalf brought his horse to a halt.

"What is it?" she asked, glancing around warily and wondering why they had stopped

"I think it would be for the best if I confront him alone to begin with. Why don't you go get a room at the Green Dragon and meet me at his smial for dinner this evening? He lives at the end of Bagshot Row in Westfarthing."

"How will I know which one? At the expense of sounding very ignorant everything around here looks the same to me."

"Trust me; you'll be able to tell."

"If you say so." Brynja gave her mount, an older mare named Daybreak, a gentle nudge in her side, urging her into a lazy walk before realizing something. "Gandalf?"

"Yes?" he called from further down the path to the right.

"Does he know that he's to be a member of the company?"

"Not yet!" She bit her lower lip to keep from laughing, marveling at the faith the wizard had in that hobbit of his and guided her horse in the direction of the inn he had mentioned.

* * *

It was shortly before sunset when Brynja set out from the Green Dragon on foot, lantern in hand. She had gotten directions from the innkeeper, a lovely she-hobbit named Daisy Smallburrow, informed that a 'Bilbo Baggins' lived in Bag End and it would take her roughly fifteen minutes to get there.

Fifteen minutes quickly turned into half an hour which then turned into an hour. All but grinding her teeth together in annoyance Brynja couldn't stop the growl that escaped her when she felt raindrops begin to fall upon her head. She glared at the darkened clouds overhead as though it would keep the rain from falling.

It didn't work. In fact, the weather seemed to have gotten slightly worse when she did so.

She flung the hood of her cloak up, hurrying down the path as she looked from smial to smial before seeing a peculiar blue glow on a green door with a brass knob in the center of it at the end of the road. She recognized it as an Iglishmêk glyph and from what incredibly little Khuzdul she knew she translated it to 'burglar'.

Either that or 'midwife' though she figured the former was more likely.

Pushing the gate open, she hurried up the front walk and ducked beneath the overhang of the porch. She smoothed the wrinkles in her cloak, making sure she was somewhat presentable before raising her hand to ring the bell.

* * *

To say Bilbo Baggins was feeling a bit haggard would be a crude understatement.

After having his home (and pantry) pillaged by dwarves they then proceeded to throw his mother's good dishes around and sing a merry song while they did so. He was almost to the point he wanted to tear his hair out in frustration, especially when the dwarf named Thorin had shown up.

Oh, if he had to deal with one more dwarf that night he would-he would-

…

Do nothing, honestly. Smile kindly and offer them dinner like any respectable hobbit would.

He hated being a respectable hobbit sometimes…

Bilbo sat off to the side while Thorin ate and spoke with his kin. "What news from Ered Luin? Did they come?"

"Aye, envoys from all Seven Kingdoms," Thorin replied, taking a sip of his drink as excited chatter broke out among the dwarves.

"Well? What did the dwarves of the Iron Hills say? Is Dain with us?" the one Bilbo knew as 'Dwalin' asked.

"They will not come." The excited chatter ceased almost immediately at those disheartening words. "They say the quest is ours and ours alone." Disappointed murmurs could be heard from all present though Bilbo's interest had been roused at the mention of a 'quest'.

"Quest?"

"Bilbo, my dear fellow, could you perhaps bring us a bit more light?"

"S-sure," he replied, fetching a candle from the kitchen and setting it on the table as Gandalf unfolded a piece of cloth and laid it before them.

"Far to the East, over ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands, lies a single solitary peak," Gandalf began, tapping the map.

Bilbo craned his head to look over the wizard's shoulder. "The Lonely Mountain?"

"Aye. Oín has read the portents and the portents say it is time!"

"Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain. _When the birds of yore return to Erebor the reign of the beast will end_."

Bilbo looked up from examining the map worriedly. "I-I'm sorry, what beast-?"

Bofur eagerly filled him in, "Oh that would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible, the chiefest and greatest calamity of our age."

"And what exactly is a Smaug?"

"Why, a dragon of course!"

"Of course," Bilbo swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. He had read about dragons, about their ability to breathe fire and fly and their love for treasure before realizing something, "You-you are going to kill a dragon?"

"That's the plan. Assuming all goes well, of course," Gandalf said with an easy smile.

One of the younger dwarves stood suddenly and proclaimed, "I'm not afraid! I'll give him a taste of dwarfish iron right up his jacksie!"

Laughter broke out among the group as an older white-haired dwarf grabbed the younger's arm, pulling him back into his seat. "Sit down you fool!"

"The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us though we only number thirteen and we aren't thirteen of the best, nor brightest."

"Did he just call us dim?"

"Watch it!"

"Sounded like it to me."

The one named Fíli stood. "We may be few in number but we're fighters!"

"That's right!" his brother exclaimed. "And besides, we have a wizard in our company! Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time!"

Said-wizard coughed suddenly, sputtering around his pipe when the dwarves looked expectantly his way. "Ah, well, I wouldn't say that-."

"How many then? Go on, give us a number!" Bilbo had to admit, he was deriving a sort of twisted pleasure watching the wizard squirm under the questions. The dwarves began arguing amongst themselves, tossing out numbers about how many dragons the wizard had killed before Thorin stood.

"_Shazara!_" he bellowed, immediately silencing them. "If we have read these signs don't you think others have as well? The dragon Smaug hasn't been seen for over sixty years. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people lays unprotected. Are we to sit back while others rightfully claim what is ours or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor?" The other dwarves voiced their agreement happily until Balin went and ruined the mood.

"You forget. The front gate is sealed, there is no way into that mountain." The company sobered up at those words before Gandalf spoke up.

"That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true." With a nimble twist of his fingers the wizard produced an ornately wrought key from out of nowhere it seemed.

"How did you come by this?" Bilbo didn't understand what was so special about the key that it had Thorin's full attention as Gandalf placed it in the dwarf's hand.

"It was given to me by your father, Thrain, for safekeeping. It is yours now."

One thing soon led to another and before Bilbo knew it he had been declared a burglar by the company as well as Gandalf and had a contract handed to him by Balin.

"Um, I really don't think I-."

"Just the usual summary; out-of-pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements-."

"Funeral arrangements?!" Bilbo squeaked out but unfolded the contract regardless and began reading it against his better judgment, "Cash on delivery, up to but not exceeding one fourteenth of total profit if any. Seems fair. Ah, present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof including but not limited to lacerations, evisceration…," he trailed off, looking up wide-eyed towards the company, "Incineration?"

"Aye, he'll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye," Bofur said cheerfully.

"Oh."

"You alright there lad? You're looking a bit peaky," Balin said, sounding concerned.

"Just-just feeling a bit faint," he stammered, clearing his throat.

"Think furnace, but with wings!"

"I-I need some air-."

"Flash of light, searing pain, then poof! Nothing more than a pile of ash.

He tried to compose himself, really he did, and was incredibly embarrassed to find himself plummeting to the ground in a dead faint.

* * *

After awakening he found himself tucked into his armchair and a cup of tea was pressed into his hands. Gandalf began the arduous task of trying to convince him to join the company but he wouldn't. He was a Baggins for crying out loud! He couldn't go running off on adventures and he definitely couldn't sign the contract when Gandalf was unable to promise that he would return.

He heard Balin and Thorin speaking when he strode down the hall towards his bedroom but paid them little mind. All he wanted to do was to sleep for a year and forget this entire evening had ever happened. He felt bad for the dwarves of course, having lost their home and birthrights but he was just a hobbit. What could he honestly do to help them?

However before he reached the end of the hall the doorbell rang for the fifth time that evening. An ominous silence fell over the group and he looked over his shoulder towards the dwarves. "Were you expecting someone else?"

"No," Thorin replied, sharing an uneasy look with Balin before they all jumped in surprise when three loud knocks echoed through the hobbit hole. Talk of dragons had everyone a bit spooked and it didn't help that it had begun to storm something fierce outside.

"I suppose you should get that Bilbo," Gandalf suggested and had Bilbo looked over at him he would've seen the mischievous grin on the wizard's lips.

"I-I suppose you are right," he agreed, starting for the front hall. He barely managed to stifle an 'eep' of surprise when thunder roared so loudly outside he could feel the vibrations beneath his feet.

The hobbit glanced out the side window but was unable to see anything through the rain coming down in sheets. He unlocked the door with trembling hands, dreading what he was about to see and eased it open slowly.

"Um, can-can I help you?" he asked the man standing on his porch. He was taller than Bilbo by over a foot and the hobbit swallowed tightly when a flash of lightning illuminated the wickedly curved knives strapped to the stranger's hips.

"Brynja, at your service," the queer individual introduced itself and Bilbo suddenly realized 'he' was actually a 'she'. She swept her arms to the side, bowing almost dramatically at the waist. "Lady, loveable rogue," she trailed off before raising her head, lips curved into a smile that was all predator, "-and dragon slayer."

Bilbo then fainted for the second time that evening.

* * *

Seemed like a good place to cut it off. I couldn't decide when I wanted Brynja to show up. I was trying to stray from a movie rewrite and it didn't quite work. Sorry *cringes nervously* Constructive criticism is always welcomed as is praise *there's my ego, rearing its ugly head once more* but if you don't like it or something doesn't make sense just let me know. I don't bite. Much. Not at all really because I'm not into that kinda thing. Okay, Imma stop talking since it's obvious my caffeine hasn't kicked in and I don't want to scare you all off. Cheers.

Teaser for Chapter Three:

_Brynja looked down at the unconscious hobbit lying at her feet. She was known for her ability to make even the strongest man cower beneath her gaze but never before had she made someone faint with just a glance. It was quite an empowering feeling, she had to admit…_


	4. Chapter Three

A/N: Sorry if this isn't my best work. I've been struck down with a nasty bout of food poisoning this past week and I've only just started feeling up to par. I know this took forever to get out and I'm sorry for that but I did just start a new job that I'm super excited about and that takes priority over Fanfiction *sadly enough*. Please bear with me while I attempt to sort my life out. Now then, may I say holy schnikes! The reader response on this has been absolutely insane and I'm very surprised (pleased, but surprised). Thanks to everyone who has reviewed/followed/favorited this so far. I hope I live up to everyone's expectations xD.

* * *

Disclaimer: I'm still alive so I'm not Tolkien, I'm not a millionaire so I'm not Jackson. I own nothing Hobbit/LOTR related, only my OC and grammar fuck-ups and make no profit writing this.

* * *

Brynja stared at the unconscious hobbit lying at her feet. She was known for her ability to make even the strongest man cower beneath her fierce green gaze but she had never made someone _faint_ with merely a casual glance.

It was rather…empowering…to say the least.

Hearing footsteps she looked up, seeing Gandalf hunched before her in order to fit in the small foyer and rolled her eyes at the sour look he gave her.

The wizard knelt at the hobbit's side, tapping him gently on the cheek. "Bilbo, you have a guest."

"Mmph?" he mumbled groggily. "Would you like to come in Miss?" his words were slightly slurred and though his eyes were open they were completely unfocused.

"No thank you, I thought I'd stand out here and enjoy this lovely weather we're having," she said sarcastically, praising herself for not jumping in surprise when another clap of thunder echoed outside.

"D-do come in. We were just having dinner and I-I'm sure there's some left over, if the dwarves haven't ate it all that is. I just-I just need to lie down for a while."

"There will be plenty of time for sleeping later Bilbo. Allow me to introduce the fifteenth member of Thorin's Company, Brynja Vandrekkr." Bilbo gave the wizard a blank look before glancing over at the woman. She bowed mockingly once more, entering the smial and wiping her boots on the dirtied front rug, setting her unlit lantern on the floor next to a coat rack.

"I-I'm going to need something stronger than tea for this," he said weakly as Gandalf helped him onto his feet.

"I'm sure that can be arranged. Come, both of you." Brynja looked around the smial; it was very cozy and warm, the smell of pipe weed hanging thick in the air. She nearly bumped her head against the ceiling, ducking beneath a doorway that led to the adjacent dining room.

Upon entering they were met with the stares of thirteen dwarves and she could see a few of them begin to inch their hands warily towards various weapons they carried. The dwarf standing at the head of the table cast a bewildered look in her direction.

"And who might this be Gandalf?" he asked the Istar. He was tall for a dwarf, maybe an inch or two shorter than she. He had sable hair with the faintest of gray streaked in it reaching passed his shoulders and it was intricately braided with gray and blue beads held back from his face with small metal cuffs. He also had short, neatly kept facial hair which surprised her. Brynja knew how important beards were to dwarves and wondered why he elected to keep his short.

"Thorin, I would like you to meet Brynja Vandrekkr." She inclined her head politely in greeting. "I have chosen her as the fifteenth member of your Company-."

"Fifteenth?"

"Did he say 'her'?"

"I think so."

"We can't bring a woman along. She'll give us bad luck." Brynja had to crack a small smile at those none-too hushed words from an older dwarf with a hearing trumpet held to his ear.

Thorin held up his hand and the dwarves fell silent. "Who are you?"

"Brynja, daughter of Aoife." She didn't miss the sharp glance Gandalf sent her when she revealed her parentage but none of the dwarves reacted to it. She supposed it was because they didn't know the tale, not that she could blame them. It was quite an old one and hardly a story parents told their children to help them sleep at night.

"Remove your hood." She cocked a brow at those words but did as he requested, lowering the furs covering her head and revealing her face.

Curiosity quickly shifted to hate and for a moment Brynja feared he knew what she truly was.

"I will not have an elf as a member of this Company!"

A quiet sigh of relief escaped both her and Gandalf before she addressed him, "I am no elf, Master Thorin, not by a longshot." She brushed her dark red hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear and showing that they weren't tapered at the tips.

"You are quite fair for a Daughter of Man."

"Kíli! You can't just say that sort of thing," a golden-haired dwarf snapped at the sable-haired one sitting next to him, knocking him none too gently upside his head. Brynja was pleased to know at least one of the dwarves had manners, "Even if it is true."

So much for that idea…

"My Ingrid is far lovelier than she," an older auburn-haired dwarf muttered before taking a drink from his tankard.

"Quiet you three," Thorin scolded the dwarves as the youngsters shrank back against their chairs while the elder simply snorted quietly. He turned his attention back to her, "What can you offer my Company?"

"My skills as-."

"She is a dragon slayer."

Way to ruin her moment, damn wizard…

Brynja found herself bombarded by questions almost immediately, "How many have you killed?"

"Over a hundred though many were lesser winged drakes."

"How do you kill them?"

"Ward spells to deflect fire, bow for range to bring them down, and sword to finish them off on the ground."

"Don't they frighten you?"

"Of course. You'd have to be a fool not to fear them."

"How does a woman come into such a dangerous occupation?"

She glanced over towards another taller than average dwarf with tattoos circling his head, a wry smile gracing her lips at his question. "I suppose you could say it runs in the family."

"Enough," Thorin stated and she braced herself for interrogation when he looked towards her, "If you are such a renowned 'dragon slayer' then why didn't you kill Smaug?"

"I never said I was well-known, Lord Thorin. I would have done so years ago but the front gate is sealed. There's no way into that mountain. Unless…," she trailed off, focusing her brilliant green eyes on his bright sapphire gaze. "You've found another way…?"

"You're a clever one, aren't you?"

"Many would beg to differ," she muttered dryly, looking pointedly in Gandalf's direction as quiet chuckles broke out among the group. She was happy they seemed slightly more at ease with her in their presence.

"She is also a thief and two burglars are better than one."

Why would they need a burglar…? Brynja then recalled Gandalf had indeed said something earlier that day about cunning being favored over brute strength but what good would a thief be against Smaug? All stealing from him would do would infuriate him and hasten the group's deaths.

She truly hated not knowing what was going through the wizard's head sometimes…

"You're a thief?" She didn't bother to deny it, simply smiling wolfishly at the dethroned dwarf at the head of the table.

"On occasion," the redhead replied casually and with a nimble flick of her wrist she procured the iron key Gandalf had given the dwarf before her arrival. He reached for his neck, feeling for the chain the key was hanging on and staring wide-eyed at the female.

"When did you-? How did you-?" She placed it gently in the king's hands, folding his fingers around it.

"Magic," she whispered with a playful wink before standing fully, ignoring the annoyed look he gave her.

"Alright, you've got me convinced lass. My name is Bofur, Miss. This is my brother Bombur and our cousin, Bifur," a hat-wearing dwarf said kindly, gesturing to himself and then to a very round auburn haired dwarf to his left and a dark haired dwarf on his right. He looked slightly off kilter though she supposed that was because he had what looked like the shard of a damn axe sticking out of his forehead!

With a certain degree of poise she didn't know she possessed Brynja somehow kept from gawking at him and instead bowed her head politely in greeting.

"My name is Gloín, milady, this is my older brother Oín," the other redheaded dwarf of the group said, nodding to her as the dwarf with the hearing trumpet gave her a sour look.

"I am Dorí, dear lady, and these are my younger brothers, Norí and Orí." Brynja was beginning to hope the rest of their names didn't rhyme or she was going to have some serious difficulty remembering them all.

"My name's Kíli and this is my brother-."

"Fíli, at your service, Lady Brynja."

"Pleasure to meet you," she replied, seeing red begin to blossom in both brothers' cheeks. They were quite adorable but much too young for her.

"I am Balin, this is my brother Dwalin. It is a pleasure to meet you Lady Brynja."

"Likewise, Master Balin but you can call me Brynja," the Still-Cursed bowed her head in respect before hearing him chuckle.

"Only if you'll do me the same courtesy."

"Of course Balin."

"Here." Only reflexes born from spending years on battlefields kept Brynja from separating the poor hobbit's head from his shoulders when he tapped her gently on the elbow. She glanced over at him, a bowl of stew in his hands which she took most graciously.

"Thank you Master Baggins."

"It's no trouble," he assured her though the dark half-moons under his eyes told another story.

As Brynja sat down to eat the dwarves made themselves comfortable in the sitting room around the fireplace.

"Did you have trouble finding the place?" Gandalf asked, lighting his pipe.

"Not much," she lied through her teeth, draining her mug of milk in a few quick swallows.

"You handled yourself well, I was surprised." Brynja glanced up curiously from her bowl at those words. "I know how you feel about dwarves, especially after what happened to Fafnír-."

"I thought we agreed you wouldn't bring that up again," she whispered harshly, glaring at him though he wasn't the least bit intimidated.

The Istar gave her a solemn look, smoke wreathing his head in artful rings though he respected her wishes and said no more on the subject.

"Who's Fafnír?" her eyes shut slowly in annoyance when she heard Bilbo speak up from the doorway. "I-I'm sorry, I was just curious if you wanted seconds and happened to overhear-."

"It's fine, this is your home after all, you have every right to come and go as you please," Brynja said calmly with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Fafnír was an old…friend…of mine."

"You speak fondly of him. May I ask what happened to him, if it doesn't dredge up sad memories for you of course?"

Her lips lifted into a grief-stricken smile and she raised her eyes to meet the hobbit's, "He died."

Bilbo's eyes widened at that but a sad smile graced his lips as he nodded towards the window. The storm had quieted and stars were beginning to appear in the night sky and the hobbit began to speak, "My mum told me a story about the stars after my father passed seven years ago. They are not actually stars, but rather windows in the Timeless Halls where the love of our lost ones pours through and shine down upon us to let us know that they are happy."

Brynja hated the way her eyes misted at that and blinked the tears away slowly to make sure none fell. "You have a way with words Master Baggins. It is a gift not many people possess. Treasure it, it will serve you well in times to come I'm sure."

"Thank you Miss. All hobbits do though, we love telling stories," he said, ladling another portion of stew into her bowl.

She didn't like how easily he brushed off her praise considering she very rarely gave it. His confidence was something that would have to be worked on if he were to be spending any length of time with her.

"Very true, though I can't say the same for Brynja here," Gandalf interjected with a sly smile that had the Still-Cursed resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "Many tales are written about her though she writes none herself."

"You must tell me a story about your travels! I have no doubt they are fascinating-," Bilbo said excitedly before blushing a bit. "I-I mean, when you return from defeating the dragon because I am not going with you." He bowed hurriedly at the waist and vanished into the kitchen but not before sticking his head back into the dining room and bidding her and Gandalf a polite, "Good evening."

"He seems rather fixed on not going."

"He will. He just needs to find his courage," Gandalf argued and once again Brynja had to marvel at the faith he had placed in Bilbo.

"Brynja." The pair glanced over to Balin who just entered the room and held a sheet of parchment in his hands. "I made some adjustments to our contract to suit your addition to our Company. If you would look over it and sign at the bottom if you agree I would appreciate it."

"Of course." She accepted the contract, skimming over it and stifling a laugh when she came across the clause 'the above party agrees that they will not steal anything from the Company so long as they desire the usage of their right hand'. Brynja hastily scrawled her signature with the quill Balin gave her, handing it back to the dwarf who examined it before smiling at her warmly.

"Welcome, Miss Vandrekkr, to the Company of Thorin Oakenshield."

* * *

Cut it off there, seemed like a good place, it was beginning to get a bit long. I was thinking of having the next chapter be a short one from Thorin's POV when Brynja showed up so let me know if you like that idea or if I should make it a oneshot or something. I honestly don't think Thorin would protest that much to having a woman along on the journey, especially if they're referred by Gandalf. He won't be happy about it I'm sure but I don't think he would blatantly slander and outright refuse the help since Gandalf vouches for her. Hell, he agreed [albeit very unwillingly] to let Bilbo come and Bilbo didn't have any combat experience whatsoever. Not until she proves her worth as a member of the Company will he start to respect her. The small story Bilbo tells Brynja is also an eskimo proverb apparently so I can't take credit for that, I just really liked it.

Anyways, sorry this took forever to get out again. Ah, one thing;

Aoife is pronounced 'Ee-faa', like Eva but with an 'f' rather than a 'v'.

And…that's it. Constructive criticism is welcome considering there are probably some grammar booboos I didn't catch since I feel like I was recently run over by a train and my head it stuffed full of cotton. Till next time guys. Cheers.


End file.
